Jaune Arc: The Gamer
by Dimensionist
Summary: Born to play, will Jaune Arc win or lose? Whatever the case, game on! ON HIATUS. UPDATE: Just a note, but anonymous reviews will be deleted. The inability to respond is a problem.


A/N: This story essentially borrows from a quest I'm running on SpaceBattles Forums, called Jaune Arc: The Gamer. Having been inspired by a few of Deviates Fish's earlier fics which detailed quests, I figured I'd try my hand at it. It won't _just_ be a direct transcription of the quest – I'll alter a few details here and there so that it works as a story rather than just a random dumping of quest updates. In any case, I hope you all enjoy it. Please review if you do, or even if you have any criticism to level.

The quest can be found here, for those curious: google 'forums spacebattles threads/jaune-arc-the-gamer.281760/'

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_Reincarnation. A term whose origins and nature is shrouded in myth._

_The idea is fantastic - too fantastic, some say, to be real. It is merely a form of wish fulfilment, they say. A desperate desire to believe that one's efforts and achievements do not merely fade upon death, but live on in the next life, and the life after that. That there is no end to a person's existence, that the soul, the consciousness, is forever immortal._

_Fantastic, it may be. Without proof or promise either. But the word itself is not as meaningless as some deride it to be._

_Come. Let me take you on a journey. A journey through the life of one who has died, and yet lives. A journey where a person who lived a long, full life, full of trials and tribulations, regrets and ridicule, gets a chance to live again._

_Let me take you on a journey - a journey called Life. The life ... of one, Jaune Arc._

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Jacques Arc paced outside the hospital room. Though the occasion was a joyous one, he couldn't help but worry.

His wife, Isabel Arc, was inside the room, giving birth. Although he'd been assured that things would be fine by the hospital staff, too much had been going wrong recently for him to be comforted.

The death of his beloved horse, the famine that had spread through their little town, the recent Grimm attacks which had breached the town fortifications and killed dozens before being put down ... it was a bad spring for the small town of Domremy.

It was bad enough that all that had happened - but the famine had had other effects as well. Even though he'd stopped eating beyond the bare minimum needed to stay alive and do his job, his wife was still rather malnourished. It was to be expected - several townspeople had already died of hunger, after all.

She wasn't in good health, which spelled dire things for the baby. Jacques prayed - to the God above, to the First Ones, to his own ancestors - he prayed to any and all for the safety of his wife and his unborn child. Isabel had already experienced a miscarriage a few years ago - their unborn daughter had been lost before they could even hold her. She'd been inconsolable then, sure that this was simply divine retribution for the many crimes she'd committed during her short stint as a mercenary and thief. Were it to happen again ... it would break her. Jacques would _not_ let that happen. Come what may.

He was jarred out of his worried pacing by a sudden chiming sound. Looking up, he saw that the light which denoted an ongoing operation was unlit, and he immediately raced into the room, hoping to see his wife and child.

He entered into a nightmare.

His wife, Isabel - his strong, stubborn Isabel - was staring straight ahead as if lost. She seemed so utterly broken, so emotionally spent, that for a moment his heart stopped. Looking to the midwife and doctor for an explanation, he was greeted with their sad, solemn faces. The doctor merely shook her head once, pointing at the lifeless bundle in Isabel's hands.

"We did all we could, Mr. Arc. I'm afraid your son was stillborn."

For a moment, all was still. Jacques could only stand there, staring, tears springing to his eyes. He bowed his head for a moment, and when he looked up, there was a fire in his eyes, a raw, unbridled expression of pure determination lighting up his features.

"No ..." He managed to get out. "No, no, no! Not again! I swear, to whichever higher power is listening, you will not take another child of mine! You will not break my family! I won't allow it!"

As if in a trance, Jacques reached out to Isabel and gently tugged the motionless bundle containing the corpse of his son. Isabel, insensate to the world around her, didn't stop him.

Alarmed at the man's sudden actions, the doctor - Ms. Micheline Perrot - reached out to stop him.

"Mr. Arc, I understand this is a very traumatic incident for you, but you need to-"

"Do not tell _me_ what I need to do, doctor!" He roared at her. "What I need is for my son to be alive. What I need is for my wife to smile. What I need is for my family to be whole, something _you_ have failed to do. I will not fail them as you have!"

The doctor flinched at his words, but did as her duty bade her to do - pressing the button existing on the wall of the room, she summoned the security forces to come and stop the maddened father from doing any harm.

Meanwhile, Jacques looked at his dead son - looked at his fully formed body, without wound or blemish - and hoped. He hoped for his son's life. Channeling his Aura into the child, he rhythmically began to pulse it to the beat of a heart, using the healing and protection skills the Arc line was famous for to its limit.

It was useless, of course. For all that the Arc family healing was acknowledged and admired, it was still limited. The dead could not be brought back to life. Jaune Arc, the child, was dead - there was no overturning that fact.

However, that did not mean 'Jaune Arc', the person, had to die.

There was an entity that existed at the pinnacle of this world. The creator, the destroyer, whatever you may call it. To it, what was, was. There was no emotion attached to its perceptions, no conscious thought or will guiding its actions, as mortals understood it. It simply was.

It was not the kind of creature that would interfere in mortal matters. But others, those outside and away, _were_. A single entity, looking for a home for a soul it had reaped, came upon this reality - and saw opportunity. Jacques Arc's emotions, his words, his desperation - the entity observed it all.

Here, then, was an opportunity. It could not interfere directly in mortal matters - its actions were limited. However, these souls would need a home, and the creator of this reality did not appear to have any defense against extrauniversal coercion ...

A single command, placed upon the creator from outside its perspective and purview, and the soul went hurtling down to Remnant, into the body of Jaune Arc.

It connected. To Jacques' disbelieving eyes, his son drew breath. His cheeks became flushed, he coughed and drooled, and he did as babies were wont to do.

To the eyes of his parents - a joyous Jacques and a slowly recovering Isabel, it was the single most beautiful thing they'd ever seen.

Even later, when Jacques was kicked out of the hospital for his actions, the smile and laughter never left him.

His son was alive. His family was whole.

All was well with the world.

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The entity that had set these events into motion smiled. The soul it had once protected, the soul it had once carried and guided – it would find peace and happiness in its new home.

The soul of a hero. The soul of a champion.

The soul of one, Han Jee-Han. The Gamer.

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A/N2: Also, Han Jee-Han's memories aren't being transferred here.


End file.
